
Book JlJJt^ 



COPYRIGHT DEPO 




vJ 



RILEY FARM-RHYMES 
WITH COUNTRY PICTURES 



Barnes ^^iicomB (^i^e^ 
♦ ♦♦ 

NEGHBORLY POEMS 

SKETCHES IN PROSE, WITH 
INTERLUDING VERSES 

AFTERWHILES 

PIPES O' PAN (Prose and Verse) 

RHYMES OF CHILDHOOD 

FLYING ISLANDS OF THE 
NIGHT 

GREEN FIELDS AND RUN- 
NING BROOKS 

ARMAZINDY 

A CHILD-WORLD 

HOME-FOLKS 

OLD-FASHIONED ROSES 
(English Edition) 

THE GOLDEN YEAR 
(English Edition) 

POEMS HERE AT HOME 

rubaiya't of doc SIFERS 

CHILD-RHYMES, WITH 
HOOSIER PICTURES 

RILEY LOVE-LYRICS 
(Pictures by Dyer) 

RILEY FARM-RHYMES 
(Pictures by Vawter) 




Ashe li':i \c^ Ihr Ikh 



LCI los out to feed the stock 



RILEY 

FARM-RHYMES 



JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY 



WITH 



COUNTRY PICTURES 



BY 

WILL VAWTER 



INDIANAPOLIS 

THE BOWEN-MERRILL COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 



X' 



< J\ 



THE LIBRARY OF 

CONGRESS, 
Two Copies Received 

AUG. 31 1901 

Copyright entry 

CLASS ^^XXa N». 

COPY B. 



Copyright, 1883, 1887, 1888, 1890, 1891, 1892, 1894, 
1897, 1898, 1901 

by 
James Whitcomb Riley 

All rights reserved 



PRESS OF 

BRAUNWORTH & CO. 

BOOKBINDERS AND PRINTERS 

BROOKLYN, N. Y. 



IXSCRIBED WITH AM, GRATEFUL ESTEEM 

TO 

THE GOOD OLD-FASHIONED PEOPLE 



TIIR dcinhiiii" ami the iJiickcf s /'rs' a h'' iliii'' fitl! o' J/t/ie, 
FroDi tJic rattle o" tJie cricket ^ to tlie \alIcr-J/ai)iiiier' s t/oie ; 
And the catbird in tJic bottom a/ni the sap-suck on the 

Sfiag, 
Seems's eftheycain't — od-rot-'em ! — -jes^ do notliiii' else 

but brag! 

There' music in the twitter <?' the bluebird and the jay. 
And that sassy little critter jes^ a-peckin'' all the day; 
There'' music in the '•'■flicker,'" and there' music in the 

th rush , 
And there'' music in the snicker o' the ch ipn/u?ik in the 

brush I — 

Thcre^ music all around me! — And I go back — i)i a 

dream 
Sweeter y it than ever found me fast asleep : — And^ i)t the 

stream 
That used to split the mcdder xcher' the dandylions 

growed^ 
I stand knee-deep, and redder than the sunset dozen the 

road. 



Page 

Brook Song, The 41 

Canary at the Farm, A ■ 76 

Clover, The 105 

Country Pathway, A 117 

Grtggsby's Station 83 

How John Quit the Farm 59 

June 164 

Knee-Deep in June 91 

"MiLO Jones's Wife" 51 

Old Fashioned Roses 113 

Old Man's Nursery Rhyme 159 

Old October 109 

Old Winters on the Farm 176 

Orchard Lands of Long Ago, The 23 

romancin' 179 

September Dark 101 

Song of Long Ago, A 171 

Tale of the Airly Days, A 152 

Thoughts fer the Discuraged Farmer 46 

Tree-Toad, The 167 

Up and Down Old Brandywine 135 

Wet Weather Talk 36 

When Early March Seems Middle May 147 

When the Feost is on the Punkin 27 

When the Green Gits Back in the Trees 32 

Where the Children Used to Play 79 

W'ORTERMELON TiME 127 

(XV) 



Page 
As He Leaves the House, Baee-Headed, and Goes Orr to Feed the 

Stock Frontispiece 

The Orchard Lands of Long Ago— Title 23 

Seas That Float and Overflow . 25 

When the Frost is on the Pcnkin— Title 27 

The Husky, RrsTY RussEL oftheTosskls OFTHECcr.N 29 

And YoueCidee-Makin' 's Over 31 

When THE Green Gits Back IN THE Thees— Title 32 

Work is the Least o' 71111 Idees 33 

Wet-Weather Talk— Title :^ 

It Hain't no Use to Grumble and Complane 37 

Wet-Weathek Talk— Tailpiece 40 

The Brook-Song— Title 41 

Came a Truant Boy Like Me 43 

The Brook-Song— Tailpiece 45 

Thoughts fer the DiscuKAGED Farmer— Title 46 

Thevr Peaceabler IN Pot-Pies Than Any Other Thing 47 

" Mylo Jones's Wife"— Title 51 

She's the Boss of Her Own House! 52 

"Mylo Jones's Wife"— Tailpiece 56 

Back Whaee He'd Ruther Be With His Team 57 

How John Quit theFaem— Title 59 

When Harvest-Time ('t)ME On 61 

His MotherClingin' to Him AT theGate 65 

Sence Then THE Old Home Here WAS Mighty Lonesome 69 

And Putt His Arms Round Mother's Neck 73 

(xvii) 



ILLUSTRATIONS CoitHuued 

Page 

How John Quit the Farm 75 

A Canary at the Farm 77 

Where the Children Used to Play— Title 79 

Winding Yonder to the Orchard 81 

Griggsby'9 Station— Title 83 

Ever' Neighbor Round the Place is Dear as a Relation 85 

Griggsby's Station— Tailpiece 88 

I Want to See the Piece-Quilts the Jones Girls is Makin' 89 

Knee-Deep in June— Title 91 

Through the Wavin' Leaves Above 93 

Work 'at Kindo Goes Ag'in my Convictions 1 97 

Knee-Deep in June— Tailpiece 100 

September Dark— Title 101 

The Low, Slow Moon, and Upward Drifts 103 

The Clover— Title 1U3 

And So I Love Clover 107 

Old October— Title 109 

Hickernuts a Fellee Hears Ill 

Old-Fashioned Roses— Title . 113 

YiT the Doorway Here, Without 'Em, Would be Lonesomer .... 115 

A Country Pathway— Title 117 

I Take the Path That Leads Me As IT May. 119 

Or, AT the Creek, Leads O'ER A Limpid Pool 123 

WoRTERMELON Time— Title 127 

When You Split One Down the Back and Jolt the Halves in Two . \'1% 

And the New-Moon Hangin' Ore Us Like a Yeller-Cored Slice . . 133 

Up and Down Old Beandywine— Title 135 

In and on Betwixt the Trees 137 

Same Old Ripple Lips Away 141 

With a Dad-Burn Hook-and-Line 145 

When Early March Seems Middle May— Title 147 

And Choppers' Hands are Bare 149 

Early March— Tailpiece 151 

(xviii) 



ILLUSTRATIONS Cotltmucd 

Page 

ATaleofthe Airly Days— Title 152 

The Times as They Ust To Be 153 

ATaleof TUE AiELY Days 156 

And the Children Gethees Home Onc't More 157 

Old Man's Nursery Rhyme — Title 15y 

Staetin' Out Rabbit-Huntin' Early as the Dawn 161 

June— Title 164 

Month OF Indolent Repose 165 

The Tree-Toad— Title 167 

Some Farmer Would Come A-Drivin' Past 169 

A Song of Long Ago— Title 171 

Through the Pasture-Baes 173 

As the Memory May K^*ow 175 

Old Winters on the Farm— Title 176 

It 'Ud Keep a Town-Boy Hoppin' 177 

Romancin'— Title 179 

Whare the Hazel-Bushes Tosses Down Theye Shaddees isi 

Then's When I' B'en A-Fishin' 1 185 

Romancin'— Tailpiece 1^7 

End Picture jj^ 

. iV" 




RILEY FARM-RHYMES 









THE ORCHARD LAXDS OF LONG AGO 



THE orchard lands of Lonp;- Ago! 
O drowsy winds, awake, and blow 
The snowy blossoms back to me. 
And all the buds that used to be ! 
Blow back alf)n|n;' the grassy ways 
Of truant feet, and lift the haze 
Of happy summer from the trees 
That trail their tresses in the seas 
Of grain that iloat and overflow 
The orchard lands of Long Ago! 

23 



THE ORCHARD LANDS OF LONG AGO 

Blow back the melody that slips 

In lazy laughter from the lips 

That marvel much if any kiss 

Is sweeter than the apple's is. 

Blow back the twitter of the birds — 

The lisp, the titter, and the words 

Of merriment that found the shine 

Of summer-time a glorious wine 

That drenched the leaves that loved it so, 

In orchard lands of Lone Agfo ! 



O memor}- ! alight and sing 
Where rosy-bellied ])ippins cling. 
And golden russets glint and gleam, 
As, in the old Arabian dream. 
The fruits of that enchanted tree 
The glad Aladdin robbed for me ! 
And, drowsy winds, awake and fan 
My blood as when it overran 
A heart ripe as the apples grow 
In orchard lands of Long Ago ! 



24 



^> 



.> -i: * 









/t; 





WHEN THE FROST IS ON THE PUXKIN 

WHEN the frost is on tlic punkin and the fodder's in 
the shock. 
And yon hear the kyouck and g-obble of the struttin' 

turkey-cock. 
And the clackin' of tlic .q'uineys, and the chickin' of the 

hens, 
And the rooster's hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence ; 
O, it's then's the times a feller is a-feelin' at his best. 
With the risin' sun to greet him from a night of peaceful 

rest. 
As he leaves the house. ])arc-headed, and goes out to feed 

the stock, 
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the 

shock. 

27 



WHEN THE FROST IS ON THE PUNKIN 

They's something- kindo' harty-like about the atniusfere 
When the heat of summer's over and the cooHn' fall is 

here — 
Of course we miss the flowers, and the blossums on the 

trees. 
And the mumble of the hummin'-birds and buzzin' of the 

bees ; 
But the air's so appetizin' ; and the landscape through the 

haze 
Of a crisp and sunny morning of the airly autumn days 
Is a pictur' that no painter has the colorin' to mock — ■ 
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the 

shock. 

The husky, rusty russel of the tossels of the corn. 

And the raspin' of the tangled leaves, as golden as the 

morn ; 
The stubble in the furries — kindo' lonesome-like, but still 
A-preachin' sermuns to us of the barns they growed to fill ; 
The strawstack in the medder, and the reaper in the shed ; 
The bosses in theyr stalls below — the clover overhead ! — 
O, it sets my hart a-clickin' like the tickin' of a clock, 
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the 

shock ! 

28 



WHEN THE FROST IS ON THE PUNKIN 

Then your apples all is g-etherd, and the ones a feller keeps 
Is poured around the celler-floor in red and veller heaps; 
And }c)ur cider-niakin' 's over, and yt)ur w iniuiern-folks is 

throu,g"h 
Willi their mince and apple-hutter, and theyr souse and 

saussage, too ! . . . 
I don't know how to tell it — hut ef sich a thing could he 
As the Angels wantin' hoardin", and they'd call annmd 

on nic — 
I'd want to 'commodate 'em — all the v/hole-indurin' 

flock- 
When the frost is on the jjunkin and the fodder's in the 

shock ! 





WHEN THE GREEN GITS BACK IN THE 
TREES 



IN Spring, when the c;Teen g-its back in tlie trees, 
And the snn comes ont and stays. 
And yer boots pulls on with a s^ood tii:;'ht squeeze, 

And you think of yer bare-foot da}'s ; 
When you orf to work and you want to iiof. 

And you and yer wife agrees 
It's time to spade up the garden-lot. 
When the green gits back in the trees 
Well ! work is the least o' my idees 
When the green, you know, gits back in the trees ! 

32 



WHEN THE GRERN CITS BACK IN TTTE TREES 

\\'lien tlio i^rccn t^its liack in the trees, and bees 

Is a-bnzzin' aroun' aj^'in 
In that kind of a lazy j^o-as-you-i^tlcase 

Old ,q-ait they bum roim' in ; 
When the qroun's all bald whare the hay-rick stood, 

And the crick's riz, and the breeze 
Coaxes the bloom in the old dog"wood. 

And the o^reen gits back in the trees, — 
1 like, as I say, in sich scenes as these, 
The time when the .q^reen j^its back in the trees ! 

When the whole tail-fethers o' \\'intertime 

Is all pulled out and gone ! 
And the sap it thaws and begins to climb, 

And the swet it starts out on 
A feller's forred, a-gittin' down 

At the old spring on his knees — 
I kindo' like jest a-loaferin' roun' 

When the green gits l)ack in the trees — 

Jest a-])otterin' ronn' as I— durn — please — 
When the green, you know, gits back in the trees ! 



35 




WET-WEATHER TALK 



IT hain't no use to grumble and complane ; 
It's jest as cheap and easy to rejoice. — 
When God sorts out the weather and sends rain, 
W'y, rain's mychoice. 

Men ginerly, to all intents — 

Although they're apt to grumble some — 
Puts most theyr trust in Providence, 
And takes things as they come — 
That is, the commonality 
Of men that's lived as long as me 
Has watched the world enugh to learn 
They're not the boss of this concern. 



/ 



' '// 



K: I,' - J 




WET-WEATHER TALK 

With some, of course, it's different — 

I've saw yoitng men that knowed it all, 
And didn't like the way things went 
On this terrestchul ball ; — 

But all the same, the rain, some way, 
Rained jest as hard on picnic day ; 
Er, when they railly 7caiitcd it, 
It mayl)y wouldn't rain a bit! 

In this existunce, dr\- and wet 

Will overtake the best of men — 
Some little shift o' clouds'll shet 
The sun off now and then. — 

And mayby, whilse you're wundern who 
You've fool-like lent your umbrell' to. 
And i^'Liitt it — out '11 pu\) the sun, 
And you'll be gkul you hain't got none! 

It aggervates the farmers, too — 

They's too much wet. er too much sun, 
Er work, er waitin' round to do 
Before the plowin' 's done: 

And mayby. like as not, the wheat, 
Jest as it's lookin' hard to beat, 

39 



WET-\\'EATHER TALK 

Will ketch the storm — and jest about 
The time the corn's a-jintin' out. 

These-here cy-c!oiirs a-foolin' round — 

And back'ard crops ! — and wind and rain ! — - 
And yit the corn that's wallerd down 
May elbow up again ! — 

They hain't no sense, as I can see, 
Fer mortuls, sich as us, to be 
A-faultin' Natchur's wise intents, 
And lockin' horns with Providence ! 

It hain't no use to grumble and complane ; 
It's jest as cheap and easy to rejoice. — 
When God sorts out the weather and sends rain, 
W'y, rain's my choice. 




40 




THE BROOK-SONG 



V 



ITTLE brook ! Little brook ! 
You have such a happy look — 
Such a very merry manner, as you swerve and 
curve and crook — 
And your ripples, one and one. 
Reach each other's hands and run 

Like laughing little children in the sun ! 

41 



THE BROOK-SONG 

Little brook, sing to me : 
Sing about a bumblebee 
That tumbled from a lily-bell and grumbled mum- 
blingly, 
Because he wet the film 
Of his wings, and had to swim. 

While the water-bugs raced round and 
laughed at him ! 

Little brook — sing a song 
Of a leaf that sailed along- 
Down the golden-braided centre of your current 
swift and strong, 
And a dragon-fly that lit 
On the tilting rim of it. 

And rode away and wasn't scared a bit. 

And sing — how oft in glee 
Came a truant boy like me, 
Who loved to lean and listen to your lilting melody 
Till the gurgle and refrain 
Of your music in his brain 

Wrought a happiness as keen to him as 
pain. 

42 



THE I5ROOK-SONG 

Little brook — lau,i;li and leap ! 
Do not let the dreamer weep: 
Sing liiin all the songs of summer till he sink in 
softest sleep ; 
And then sing soft and low 
Through his dreams of long ago — 

Sing back to him the rest he used to know ! 




45 




THOUGHTS FER THE DISCURAGED 
FARMER 



THE summer winds is sniffin' round the bloomin' locus' 
trees ; 
And the clover in the pastur is a big day fer the bees, 
And they been a-swig"gin' honey, above board and on the 

sly, 
Tel they stutter in theyr buzzin' and stagger as they fly. 
The flicker on the fence-rail 'pears to jest spit on his 

wings 
And roll up his feathers, by the sassy way he sings ; 
And the hoss-fly is a-whettin'-up his forelegs fer biz, 
And the off-mare is a-switchin' all of her tale they is. 

46 



v/ 




THOUGHTS FER THK niSCl'RA(^F.n FARMF.R 

You can hear the blackl)ir(ls jawin" as they toller up the 

plow — 
Oh. theyr bound to git theyr brekfast. and tbeyr not 

a-carin' how ; 
So they cjuarrel in the furrics, and tbey quarrel on the 

wing — 
But theyr peaceabler in pot-pies than any other thing- : 
And it's when I git my shotgun drawed up in stiddy rest, 
She's as full of tribbelation as a yeller-jacket's nest ; 
And a few shots before dinner, when the sun's a-shinin' 

right, 
Seems to kindo'-sorto' shar]XMi up a feller's appetite! 



They's been a heap o' rain, but the sun's out to-day, 
And the clouds of the wet spell is all cleared away. 
And the woods is all the greener, and the grass is greener 

still ; 
It may rain again to-morry. Imt T don't think it will. 
Some says the crops is ruined, and the corn's drownded 

out. 
And propha-sy the wheat will be a failure, without doubt ; 
But the kind Provi<lence that has never failed us vet. 
Will be on hands onc't more at the 'leventh hour. T bet ! 

49 



THOUGHTS FER THE DISCURAGED FARMER 

Does the medder-lark complane, as he swims hig-h and dry 
Through the waves of the wind and the bhie of the sky? 
Does the quail set up and whissel in a disappinted way, 
Er hang his head in silunce, and sorrow all the day ? 
Is the chipmuck's health a-failin' ? — Does he walk, er does 

he run? 
Don't the buzzards ooze around up thare jest like they've 

alius done? 
Is they anything the matter with the rooster's lungs er 

voice ? 
Ort a mortul be complanin' when dumb animals rejoice? 

Then let us, one and all, be contentud with our lot ; 
The June is here this morning, and the sun is shining hot. 
Oh ! let us fill our harts up with the glory of the day, 
And banish ev'ry doubt and care and sorrow fur away ! 
Whatever be our station, with Providence fer guide, 
Sich fine circumstances ort to make us satisfied ; 
Fer the world is full of roses, and the roses full of dew, 
And the dew is full of heavenly love that drips fer me 
and you. 



50 



" MYLO JONES'S WIFE " 



NV'\' 



XO JONES'S wife" was all 
heerd. mig-hty near, last Fall — 
\'isitun relations down 
T'other side of Mort;-antown ! 
Mylo Jones's wife she does 
This and that, and "those" and "llius" !— 
Can't "hide l)al)ies in her si_y;ht — 
Ner no ehildern. day and ni_c:ht, 
Whoopin' round the premises — 
Ncr no iiotliiii' else, I guess! 

51 



MYLO JONES S WIFE 

Mylo Jones's wife she 'lows 

She's the boss of her own house ! — 

Mylo — consequences is — 

Stays whare things seem some like liis, — 

Uses, mostly, with the stock — 

Coaxin' "Old Kate" not to balk, 

Ner kick hoss-flies' branes out, ner 

Act, I s'pose, so much like her! 

Yit the wimmern-folks tells you 

She's perfection. — Yes they do ! 

Mylo's wife she says she's found 

Home hain't home with men-folks round 

When they's work like hern to do — 

Picklin' pears and butch em, too, 

And a-rendern lard, and then 

Cookin' fer a pack of men 

To come trackin' up the flore 

She's scrubbed tcl she'll scrub no more! — 

Yit she'd keep things clean ef they 

Made her scrub tel Jedgmunt Day ! 

Mylo Jones's wife she sews 
Carpet-rags and patches clothes 
52 



" M\'L() JOXKS'S WIFE " 

Jest year //; and out! — and yit 
Whare's the livin' use of it? 
She asts Alylo that. — And he 
Gits back whare he'd ruther be. 
With his team ; — jest ploz^'s — and don't 
Never sware — hke some folks won't! 
Think ef he'd cut loose, I gum ! 
'D he'p his heavenly chances some ! 

Mylo's wife don't see no use, 
Ner no reason ner excuse 
Fer his pore relations to 
Hang round like they alius do ! 
Thare 'bout onc't a year — and she — 
She jest ga'iits 'em, folks tells me, 
On spiced pears ! — Pass Mylo one, 
He says "No, he don't chuse none!" 
Workin' men like Mylo they 
'D ort to have meat ev'ry day ! 

Dad-burn Mylo Jones's wife! 
Ruther rake a blame caseknife 
'Crost my wizzen than to see 
Sich a womern rulin' me! — 

55 



MYLO JONES S WIFE 

Ruther take and turn in and 

Raise a fool mule-colt by hand ! 

Alylo, though — od-rot the man ! — 

Jest keeps ca'm — like some folks caii- 

And 'lows sich as her, I s'pose. 

Is Man's hc'piiicct! — JNIercy knows ! 




56 




HOW JOHN QUIT THE FARM 



N 



OBODY oil tlie old farm here but Alother, me and 
John, 
Except, of course, the extry he'p when harvest-time come 

on, — 
And fJicii. T want to say to you, we needed he'p about. 
As you'd admit, ef you'd a-seen the way the crops turned 
out! 

59 



HOW JOHN QUIT THE FARM 

A better quarter-section ner a richer soil warn't found 
Than this-here old-home place o' ourn fer fifty miles 

around ! — 
The house was small — but plenty-big- we found it from 

the day 
That John — our only livin' son — packed up and went 

away. 

You see, we tuk sich pride in John — his mother more'n 

me — 
That's natchurul ; but botJi of us was proud as proud 

could be ; 
Fer the boy, from a little chap, was most oncommon 

bright, 
And seemed in work as well as play to take the same 

delight. 

He alius went a-whistlin' round the place, as glad at heart 

As robins up at five o'clock to git an airly start ; 

And many a time 'fore daylight Mother's waked me up 

to say — 
"Jest listen, David! — listen! — Johnny's beat the birds 

to-day !" 

60 




«JB3 



now JOHN QUIT TIIK FARM 

High-sperited from boyhood, witli a most in(|uirin' turn, — 
He wanted to learn ever'thing on earth tliey was to learn : 
He'd ast more plas^uy questions in a mortal-minute here 
Than his i^randpap in Paradise could answer in a year! 

And read! w'y, his own mother learnt him how to read 

and spell ; 
And "The Childern of the Abhey" — w'y, he knowcd that 

book as well 
At fifteen as his parents ! — and "The Pilgrim's Pro^'ress," 

too — 
Jest knuckled down, the shaver tlid. and read "em throu.i.',h 

and throu.^h ! 

At eighteen, Mother "lowed the boy must have a better 

chance — 
That we ort to educate him, under anv circiunstance ; 
And John he j'ined his mother, and they dim;--don^ed and 

ke]i" on, 
Tel I sent him off to school in t(jwn, half glad that he was 

gone. 

But — T missed him — w'y, of course I did ! — The I-'all and 

Winter through 
I never built the kitchen-fire, er ^pWt a stick in two, 

63 



HOW JOHN QUIT THE FARM 

Er fed the stock, er butchered, or swiing^ up a gambrel-pin, 
But what I thought o' John, and wished that he was home 
ag'in. 

He'd come, sometimes — on Sund'ys most — and stay the 

Sund'y out ; 
And on Thanksgivin'-Day he 'peared to hke to be about : 
But a change was workin' on him — he was stiller than 

before, 
And didn't joke, ner laugh, ner sing and whistle any more. 

And his talk was all so proper ; and I noticed, with a sigh. 
He was tryin' to raise side-whiskers, and had on a striped 

tie. 
And a standin'-collar, ironed up as stiff and slick as bone ; 
And a breast-pin, and a watch and chain and plug-hat of 

his own. 

But when Spring-weather opened out, and John was to 

come home 
And he'p me through the season, I was glad to see him 

come ; 
But my happiness, that evening, with the settin' sun went 

down, 
When he bragged of "a position'-' that was offered him in 

town. 

64 



HOW JOHN QUIT THE FARM 

"But," says I, "you'll not accept it?" "\V"y, of course I 

will," says he. — 
"This drudi^iu" on a farm," he says, "is not the life fer 

me ; 
I've set my stakes up hij^her," he contimied, li,c;ht and gay, 
"And town's the place fer uic, and I'm a-goin' right 



• I" 



awa\ 



And go he did ! — his mother clingin' to him at the gate, 

A-pleadin' and a-cryin' ; hut it hadn't any weight. 

I was tranquiller, and told her 'twarn't no use to worry 

so, 
And enclasped her arms from round his neck round mine 

— and let him go ! 

I felt a little Ititter feelin' foolin' round ahout 
The aidges of my conscience ; but I didn't let it out ; — 
I simply retch out, trimbly-like, and tuk the boy's hand, 
And though I didn't say a word, I knowed he'd under- 
stand. 

And — well ! — sence then the old home here was mighty 

lonesome, shore ! 
With me a-workin' in the field, and Mother at the door, 

67 



HOW JOHN QUIT THE FARM 

Her face ferever to'rds the town, and fadin' more and 

more — 
Her only son nine miles away, a-clerkin' in a store ! 

The weeks and months dragged by us ; and sometimes the 

boy would write 
A letter to his mother, sayin' that his work was light, 
And not to feel oneasy about his health a bit — 
Though his business was confinin', he was gittin' used 

to it. 

And sometimes he would write and ast how / was gittin' 

on. 
And ef I had to pay out much fer he'p sence he was gone ; 
And how the hogs was doin', and the balance of the stock, 
And talk on fer a page er two jest like he used to talk. 

And he wrote, along 'fore harvest, that he guessed he 

would git home, 
Fer business would, of course, be dull in town. — But 

didn't come : — 
We got a postal later, sayin' when they had no trade 
They filled the time "invoicin' goods," and that was why 

he stayed. 

68 





'/ 



'^ A 



.C¥FVV 



^ 




\ < • 






HOW JOHN QITIT THE FARM 

And then he quit a-writin' altog'ether: Not a word — 

Exceptin' what tlie ncii;hl)ers brunq- who'd been to town 
and heard 

What store John was clerkin' in, and went round to in- 
quire 

If they could 1)uy tlieir ^-oods there less and sell their 
produce hi^-her. 

And so the Summer faded out. and Autumn wore away, 
And a keener \\^inter never fetched around Thanksg-ivin'- 

Day ! 
The niq-ht before that day of thanks I'll never quite ferg"it, 
The wind a-howlin' round the house — it makes me creepy 

yit! 

And there set me and Mother — me a-twistin' at the prongfs 
Of a green scrub-ellum forestick with a vicious pair of 

tongs, 
And Mother sayin', "David ! David !" in a' undertone, 
As though she thought that I was thinkin' bad-words 

unbeknown. 

"I've dressed the turkey, David, fer to-morrow," Mother 

said, 
A-tryin' to wedge some pleasant subject in my stubborn 

head, — 

71 



HOW JOHN QUIT TIIF, FARM 

"And the mince-nieat I'm a-niixin' is perfection mightv 

nii^h ; 
And the poitnd-cake is delicious-rich — " "W'ho'H eat 

'em?" I-savs-I. 



"The cramberries is drippii>'-s\veet." savs Mother, runnin' 

on, 
P'tendin' not to hear me ; — "and somehow I thought of 

John 
All the time they was a-jellin' — fer you know they alius 

was 
His iayoritc- — he likes 'em so!" Says I. "W'ell, s'pose 

he does ?" 



"Oh, nothin' much !" says Mother, with a quiet sort o' 

smile — 
"This gentleman behintl my cheer may tell you after 

while !" 
And as I turnt and looked around, some one riz up and 

leant 
And putt his arms round Mother's neck, and laughed in 

low content. 

72 



now JOHN yUIT THE FARM 

''It's ;//(;/' he says — "your fool-boy John, come back to 
shake your hand ; 

Set down with you, and talk with you, and make you un- 
derstand 

How dearer yit than all the world is this old home that 
we • 

Will spend Thanksi^'-ivin' in fer life — jest Motlier. you 
and me !" 



Nobody on the old farm here but Mother, me and John, 
Except, of course, the extry he'p when harvest-time comes 

on ; 
And then, I want to say to you, we need sich he'p about, 
As you'd admit, ef you could see the way the crops turns 

out! 




75 



A CANARY AT THE FARAl 

F( )LKS has be'n to town, and Sahry 
Fetched 'er home a pet canary, — 
And of ah tlie blame', contrary, 

Aggervatin" things ahve! 
I love music — that's I love it 
When it's free — and plenty of it ; — 
But I kindo' git above it, 
At a dollar-eighty-five ! 

Reason's plain as Fm a-sayin', — 
Jes' the idy, now, o' lay in' 
Out yer money, and a-payin' 

Fer a wilier-cage and l)ird. 
When the medder-larks is wingin' 
Round you, and the woods is ringin' 
With the beautifullest singin' 

That a mortal ever heard ! 

Sahry's sot, tho'. — So I tell her 

He's a purty little feller, 

W^ith his wings o' creamy-yeller, 

And his eyes keen as a cat ; 
And the twitter o' the critter 
'Pears to absolutely glitter ! 
Guess Fll haf to go and git her 

A high-priceter cage 'n that ! 

76 




WHERE THE CHILDREN USED TO PLAY 



THE old farm-home is Mother's vet and mine, 
And filled it is with plenty and to spare, — 
But we are lonely here in life's decline, 

Thoug^h fortune smiles around us everywhere : 
We look across the g^old 
Of the harvests, as of old — 
The corn, the fra^erant clover, and the hay; 
But most we turn our g'aze, 
As with eyes of other days. 
To the orchard where the children used to play 

79 



WHERE THE CHILDREN USED TO PLAY 

O from our life's full measure 
And ricJi Jward of z^'orldly treasure 

IVe often turn our zveary eyes aivay, 
And hand in hand ive zvander 
Dozvn the old path zvinding yonder 

To the orehard zchere the children used to play. 

Our sloping pasture-lands are filled with herds ; 

The barn and granary-bins are bulging o'er ; 
The grove's a paradise of singing birds — 

The woodland brook leaps laughing by the door 

Yet lonely, lonely still. 

Let us prosper as we will, 
Our old hearts seem so empty everyway — 

We can only through a mist 

See the faces we have kissed 
In the orchard where the children used to play. 

O from our life's full measure 
And rich hoard of z^'orldly treasure 

We often turn our weary eyes azeay, 
And hand in hand zve zvander 
Dozvn the old path zvinding yonder 

To the orchard zvJiere the children used to play. 
80 



**^3sJltt^*^» --'"'-^^e^:^'' 



--.,.'!.^^r*^-^^kC*^»^ 





X - 



KNEE-DEEP IN JUNE 



I 



TELL you what J like the best — 
'Long about knee-deep in June, 
'Bout the time strawlierries melts 
On the vine, — some afternoon 
Like to jes' git out and rest. 

And not work at nothin' else ! 

91 



KNEE-DEEP IN JUNE 
II 

Orchard's where I'd ruther be — 
Needn't fence it in fer me ! — 

Jes' the whole sky overhead, 
And the whole airth underneath — 
Sorto' so's a man kin breathe 

Like he ort, and kindo' has 
Elbow-room to keerlessly 

Sprawl out len'thways on the grass 
Where the shadders thick and soft 

As the kivvers on the bed 
Mother fixes in the loft 
Alius, when they's company ! 

TIT 

Jes' a-sorto' lazin' there — 
S'lazy, "at you peek and peer 
■Through the wavin' leaves above, 
Like a feller 'at's in love 
And don't know it, ner don't keer ! 
Ever'thing you hear and see 
Got some sort o' interest — 
Maybe find a bluebird's nest 
92 



• ($ 




\^r- 



y 



.^^ 









KNEE-DEF.1> IN JUNE 

Tucked up there conveenently 

Fer the boy 'at's ap' to he 

Up some other ajople-tree ! 
Watch the swallers skootin' past 
'Bout as peert as you could ast ; 

Er the Bob-white raise and whiz 

Where some other's whistle is. 

TV 

Ketch a shadder down below, 
And look up to find the crow — 
Er a hawk, — away up there, 
'Pearantly fro.'^c in the air ! — 

Hear the old hen squawk, and squat 

Over ever' chick she's got, 
Suddent-like ! — and she knows where 

That-air hawk is. well as you ! — 

You jes' bet yer life she do ! — 
Eyes a-glitterin' like glass, 
Waitin' till he makes a pass ! 

V 
Pee- wees' singin', to express 
My opinion, 's second class, 
95 



KNEE-DEEP IN JUNE 

Yit you'll hear 'em more er less ; 

Sapsucks gittin' down to biz, 
Weedin' out the lonesomeness ; 
Mr. Bluejay, full o' sass, 

In them base-ball clothes o' his. 
Sportin' round the orchard jes' 
Like he owned the premises ! 

Sun out in the fields kin sizz, 
But flat on yer back, I guess, 

Tn the shade's where glory is ! 
That's jes' what I'd like to do 
Stiddy fer a year er two! 

VI 

Plague ! ef they ain't somepin' in 
Work "at kindo' goes ag'in' 
My convictions ! — 'long about 
Here in June especially ! — 
Under some old apple-tree, 

Jes' a-restin' through and through, 
I could git along without 
Nothin' else at all to do 
Only jes' a-wishin' you 
96 



KNEE-DEEP IN JUNE 

Wuz a-.q"ittin' there like me, 
And June was eternity ! 

VII 

Lay (Hit there and try to see 
Jes" liow lazy you kin he ! — 

Tumhle round and souse yer head 
In the clover-l)loom, er pull 

Yer straw hat acrost yer eyes 
And peek throu^'h it at the skies, 
Thinkin'" of old chums 'at's dead, 
Mayhc, smilin' hack at you 
In Ijetwixt the heautiful 

Clouds o' gold and white and hlue ! — 
Month a man kin railly love — 
June, you know, I'm talkin' of! 

VITI 

March ain't never nothin' new! — 
Aprile's altogether too 

Brash fer me I and May — I jes' 

'Dominate its promises, — 
Little hints o' sunshine and 
Green around the timher-land — 
L.ofC. 99 



KNEE-DEEP IN JUNE 

A few blossoms, and a few 
Chip-birds, and a sprout er two, — 
Drap asleep, and it turns in 
'Fore daylight and snozvs ag'in ! — 
But when June comes — Clear my th'oat 

With wild honey ! — Rench my hair 
In the dew ! and hold my coat ! 

Whoop out loud ! and th'ow my hat !- 
June wants me, and I'm to spare ! 
Spread them shadders anywhere, 
I'll git down and waller there, 
And obleeged to you at that ! 




I GO 



'• • i -.".:- 



11^^ 




SEPTEMBER DARK 



THE air falls chill; 
The whippoorwill 
Pipes lonesomely behind the hill 
The dusk grows dense, 
The silence tense : 
And lo, the katydids commence. 
lOi 



SEPTEMBER DARK 



II 



Through shadowy rifts 

Of woodland, lifts 

The low, slow moon, and upward drifts, 

While left and right 

The fireflies' light 

Swirls eddying in the skirts of Night. 



Ill 



O Cloudland, gray 

And level, lay 

Thy mists across the face of Day 

At foot and head, 

Above the dead, 

O Dews, weep on uncomforted ! 




102 



■in 








^ 



THE CLO\'ER 



SOME sings of the lily, and daisy, and rose, 
And the pansies and pinks that the Summertime 
throws 
In the jo^reen o^rassy lap of the medder that lays 
Blinkin' up at the skyes throui^'h the sunshincy days ; 
But what is the lily and all of the rest 
Of the flowers, to a man with a hart in his brest 
That was dipped brimmin' full of the honey and dew 
Of the sweet clover-blossoms his bal)yhood knew? 

105 



THE CLOVER 

I never set eyes on a clover-field now, 

Er fool round a stable, er climb in the mow, 

But my childhood comes back jest as clear and as plane 

As the smell of the clover I'm sniffin' again ; 

And I wunder away in a bare-footed dream, 

Whare I tangle my toes in the blossoms that gleam 

With the dew of the dawn of the morning of love 

Ere it wept ore the graves that I'm weepin' above. 

And so I love clover — it seems like a part 

Of the sacerdest sorrows and joys of my hart ; 

And wharever it blossoms, oh, thare let me bow 

And thank the good God as I'm thankin" Him now ; 

And I pray to Him still fer the strcn'th when I die. 

To go out in the clover and tell it good-bye. 

And lovin'ly nestle my face in its bloom 

While my soul slips away on a breth of purfume. 



1 06 




OLD OCTOBER 

OLD October's purt' nigh gone, 
And the frosts is comin' on 
Little Jicavicr every day — 
Like our hearts is thataway ! 
Leaves is changin' overhead 
Back from green to gray and red, 
Brown and yeller, with their stems 
Loosenin' on the oaks and e'ms ; 
And the balance of the trees 
Gittin' leakier every breeze — 
Like the heads we're scratchin' on ! 
Old October's purt' nigh gone. 
109 



OLD OCTOBER 

I love Old October so, 
I can't bear to see her go — 
Seems to me like losin' some 
Old-home relative er chum — 
'Pears like sorto' settin' by 
Some old friend 'at sigh by sigh 
Was a-passin' out o' sight 
Into everlastin' night ! 
Hickernuts a feller hears 
Rattlin' down is more like tears 
Drappin' on the leaves below — 
I love Old October so ! 

Can't tell what it is about 
Old October knocks me out ! — 
I sleep well enough at night — 
And the blamedest appetite 
Ever mortal man possessed, — 
Last thing et, it tastes the best ! — 
Warnuts, butternuts, pawpaws, 
'lies and limbers up my jaws 
Fer raal service, sich as new 
Pork, spareribs, and sausage, too.- 
Yit, fer all, they's somepin' 'bout 
Old October knocks me out ! 
no 




^ 




OLD-FASHIOXED ROSES 

TTIEV ain't no st}-le about 'em, 
And the_\'"rc sorto' pale and faded, 
Yit the doorway here, without 'em, 
Would be lonesomer, and shaded 
With a i^ood 'eal blacker shadder 

Than the morning-glories makes. 
And the sunshine would look sadder 
Per their srood old-fashion' sakes. 



I like 'em 'cause they kindo'- 
Sorto' iiuikc a feller like 'em ! 

And T tell you, when T find a 

Runch out whur the sun kin strike 'em, 

113 



OLD-FASHIONED ROSES 

It alius sets me thinkin' 

O' the ones at used to g^row 

And peek in thro' the chinkin' 
O' the cabin, don't you know ! 



And then I think o' mother, 

And how she ust to love 'em — 
When they wuzn't any other, 

'Less she found 'em up above 'em ! 
And her eyes, afore she shut 'em, 

Whispered with a smile and said 

We must pick a bunch and putt 'em 

In her hand when she wuz dead. 



But, as I wuz a-sayin', 

They ain't no style about 'em 
Very gaudy er display in', 

But I wouldn't be without 'em, — 
'Cause I'm happier in these posies. 

And the hollyhawks and sich. 
Than the hummin'-bird 'at noses 
In the roses of the rich. 

114 




.» 




A COUNTRY PATHWAY 

I COME upon it suddenly, alone — 
A little pathway winding- in the weeds 
That friniT^e the roadside ; and with dreams my own, 
I wander as it leads. 



Full wistfully alone: the slender way, 

Throup^h summer tan of freckled shade and shine. 
I take the path that leads me as it may — 

Its every choice is mine. 
117 



A COUNTRY PATHWAY 

A chipmunk, or a sudden-whirring quail. 
Is startled by my step as on I fare — 

A garter-snake across the dusty trail 
Glances and — is not there. 

Above the arching jimson- weeds flare twos 
And twos of sallow-yellow butterflies, 

Like blooms of lorn primroses blowing loose 
When autumn winds arise. 

The trail dips — dwindles — broadens then, and lifts 
Itself astride a cross-road dubiously, 

And, from the fennel marge beyond it, drifts 
Still onward, beckoning me. 

And though it needs must lure me mile on mile 
Out of the public highway, still I go, 

My thoughts, far in advance in Indian-file, 
Allure me even so. 

Why, I am as a long-lost boy that went 
At dusk to bring the cattle to the bars. 

And was not found again, though Heaven lent 
His mother all the stars 
ii8 



^.i 







A COUNTRY PATHWAY 

With which to seek him throut^^h tliat awful nijj^hl. 

C) years of nio;hts as vain ! — Stars never rise 
But well might miss their ,y-litter in the light 

Of tears in mother-eyes ! 

So — on, witli quickened breaths, 1 follow still — 
My avant-courier must l)e obeyed ! 

Thus am I led, and thus the path, at will, 
Invites me to invade 

A meadow's precincts, where my daring guide 
Clambers the steps of an old-fashioned stile, 

And stumbles down again, the other side, 
To gambol there awhile 

In pranks of hide-and-seek, as on ahead 
I see it running, while the clover-stalks 

Shake rosy fists at me, as though they said — 
"You dog our country-walks 

'And mutilate us with your walking-stick ! — 
Wc will not suffer tamely what you do, 

And warn you at your peril, — for we'll sic 
Our bumblebees on you !" 

121 



A COUNTRY PATHWAY 

But I smile back, in airy nonchalance, — 

The more determined on my wayward quest, 

As some bright memory a moment dawns 
A morning in my breast — 

Sending a thrill that hurries me along 

In faulty similes of childish skips. 
Enthused with lithe contortions of a song 

Performing on my lips. 

In wild meanderings o'er pasture wealth — 
Erratic wanderings through dead'ning-lands. 

Where sly old brambles, plucking me by stealth, 
Put berries in my hands : 

Or the path climbs a bowlder — wades a slough — 
Or, rollicking through buttercups and flags, 

Goes gayly dancing o'er a deep bayou 
On old tree-trunks and snags : 

Or, at the creek, leads o'er a limpid pool 
Upon a bridge the stream itself has made. 

With some Spring-freshet for the mighty tool 
That its foundation laid. 

122 



A COUNTRY PATHWAY 

I pause a moment here to bend and muse, 
With dreamy eyes, on my reflection, where 

A boat-backed bu£^ drifts on a helpless cruise, 
Or wildly oars the air, 

As, dimly seen, the pirate of the brook — 

The pike, whose jaunty hulk denotes his speed- 
Swings pivoting about, with wary look 
Of low and cunning greed. 

Till, filled with other thought, I turn again 
To where the pathway enters in a realm 

Of lordly woodland, under sovereign reign 
Of towering oak and elm. 

A puritanic quiet here reviles 

The almost whispered warble from the hedge, 
And takes a locust's rasping voice and files 

The silence to an edge. 

In such a solitude my sombre way 

Strays like a misanthrope within a gloom 

Of his own shadows — till the perfect day 
Bursts into sudden bloom, 

125 



A COUNTRY PATHWAY 

And crowns a long, declining stretch of space. 

Where King Corn's armies he with flags unfurled, 

And where the valley's dint in Nature's face 
Dimples a smiling world. 

And lo ! through mists that may not be dispelled, 
I see an old farm homestead, as in dreams, 

Where, like a gem in costly setting held, 
The old log cabin sfleams. 



O darling Pathway ! lead me bravely on 
Adown your valley-way, and run before 

Among the roses crowding up the lawn 
And thronging at the door, — 

And carry up the echo there that shall 
Arouse the drowsy dog, that he may bay 

The household out to greet the prodigal 
That wanders home to-day. 




126 




WORTERMELON TIME 

OLD wortermelon time is a-comin' round ag"ain. 
And they ain't no man a-livin' any tickleder'n me, 
Per the way I hanker after wortermelons is a sin — 

Which is the why and wharefore, as you can plainly see. 



Oh ! it's in the sandy soil wortermelons does the best. 
And it's thare they'll lay and waller in the sunshine and 
the dew 
Tel they wear all the green streaks clean oft" of theyr 
breast ; 
And you bet I ain't a-findin' any fault with them ; air 
you? 

127 



VVORTER MELON TIME 

They ain't no better things in the vegetable Hne ; 

And they don't need much 'tenchn', as ev'ry farmer 
knows ; 
:\nd when theyr ripe and ready fer to pluck from the vine, 

I want to say to you theyr the best fruit that grows. 

It's some likes the yeller-core, and some likes the red, 
And it's some says "The Little Californy" is the best ; 

But the sweetest slice of all I ever wedged in my head, 
Is the old "Edingburg Mounting-sprout," of the west. 

You don't want no punkins nigh your wortermelon 
vines — 
'Cause, some-way-another, they'll spile your melons, 
shore ; — 
I've seed 'em taste like punkins, from the core to the rines. 
Which may be a fact you have heerd of before. 

But your melons that's raised right and 'tended to with 
care, 
Yoti can walk around amongst 'em with a parent's pride 
and joy. 
And thump 'em on the heads with as fatherly a air 
As ef each one of them was your little girl er boy. 

128 




-w:f 



0^ 






',;Ul!iW^''"'-~* 



WORTERMKLON TIME 

I joy in my hart jest to hear that rippin' sound 

When \()U spht one down the back and jolt the halves 
in two, 
And the friends you love the best is gethered all around — 
And you says unto your s'weethart, "Oh, here's the core 
fer you !" 

And I like to slice 'em up in bi,^' pieces fer 'em all, 

Zspeshally the childcrn, and watch theyr hij^h delight 

As one by one the rines with the\r i)iuk notches falls, 
And they holler fer some more, with unquenched 
appetite. 

Boys takes to it natchurl, and T like to see 'em eat — 
A slice of wortermelon's like a frenchharp in theyr 
hands, 
And when they "saw" it through theyr mouth sich music 
can't be beat — 
'Cause it's music both the sperit and the stummick 
understands. 

Oh, they's more in wortermelons than the ])urty-colored 
meat, 
And the overtiowin' sweetness of the \vorter squshed 
betwixt 

131 



WORTER MELON TIME 

The up'ard and the dowii'ard motions of a feller's teeth, 
And it's the taste of ripe old age and juicy childhood 
mixed.. 

Fer I never taste a melon but my thoughts flies away 
To the summertime of youth ; and again I see the dawn, 

And the fadin' afternoon of the long summer day. 

And the dusk and dew a-fallin', and the night a-comin' 
on. 

And thare's the corn around us. and the lispin' leaves and 
trees, 
And the stars a-peekin' down on us as still as silver 
mice, 
And us boys in the wortermelons on our hands and knees, 
And the new-moon hangin" ore us like a yeller-cored 
slice. 

Oh ! it's wortermelon time is a-comin' round again. 
And they aiii't no man a-livin' any tickleder'n me, 

Fer the way I hanker after wortermelons is a sin — 

Which is the why and wharefore, as you can plainly see. 



132 




UP AND DOWN OLD BRANDYWINE 



Ur and down old Brandywine, 
In the days 'at's past and gone — 
With a dad-burn hook-and-line 
And a sapHn'-pole — i swawn ! 

I've had more fun, to the square 
Inch, than ever aw;ywhere ! 
Heaven to come can't discount mine 
Up and down old P)randywine ! 
135 



UP AND DOWN OLD BRANDY WINE 

Hain't no sense in uisJiin' — yit 

Wisht to goodness I could jes 
'Gee" the blame' world round and git 
Back to that old happiness ! — 

Kindo' drive back in the shade 
"The old Covered Bridge" there laid 
'Crosst the crick, and sorto' soak 
My soul over, hub and spoke ! 

Honest, now ! — it I:ain't no dream 
'iVt I'm wantin', — but Ihc fac's 
As they wuz ; the same old stream. 

And the same old times, i jacks ! — 
Gim me back my bare feet — and 
Stonebruise too ! — And scratched and tanned ! 
And let hottest dog-days shine 
Up and down old Brandy wine ! 

In and on betwixt the trees 

'Long the banks, pour down yer noon, 
Kindo' curdled with the breeze 

And the yallerhammer's tune ; 



136 



UP AND DOWN OLD imANDVWINE 

And the smokin\ chokin' dust 
O' the turnpike at its wusst — 
Safiird'ys, say, wlien it seems 
Road's jes jammed with country teams !- 

W'hikse the old town, fur away 

'Crosst the hazy pastur'-land, 
Dozcd-hke in the heat o' day 
Peaceful' as a hired hand. 

Jolt the j^ravcl th'ou,c:h the floor 
O' the old hridi^^e! — grind and roar 
With yer blame percession-line — ■ 
Up and down old P.randywine! 

Souse me and my new straw-hat 

Off the foot-lo.g! — what / care? — 
Fist shoved in the crown o' that — 
Like the old Clown ust to wear. 
Wouldn't swop it fer a' old 
Gin-u-wine raal crown o' gold ! — 
Keep yer King ef you'll gim me 
Jes the boy I ust to be ! 



139 



UP AND DOWN OLD BRANDYWINE 

Spill my fishin'-worms ! er steal 

•My best "goggle-eye !" — but you 
Can't lay bands on joys I feel 
Nibblin' like tbey ust to do ! 
So, in memory, to-day 
Same old ripple lips away 
At my "cork" and saggin' line. 
Up and down old Brandywine ! 

Tbere tbe logs is, round tbe bill, 

Wbere "Old Irvin" ust to lift 
Out sunfisb from daylight till 

Dewfall — 'fore be'd leave "Tbe Drift'' 
And give us a cbance — and tben 
Kindo' fisb back home again, 
Ketcbin' 'em jes left and rigbt 
Where zve hadn't got "a bite !" 

Er, 'way w^indin' out and in, — 

Old path tb'ough tbe iurnweeds 

And dog-fennel to yer chin — 

Then come suddent, tb'ough the reeds 



140 



UP AND DOWX OLD BRANDYWINE 

And cat-tails, smack into where 
Them-air woods-hogs ust to scare 
Us clean 'crosst the County-line, 
Up and down old Brandywine ! 

But the dim roar o' the dam 

Tt 'ud coax us furder still 
To'rds the old race, slow and ca'm, 
Slidin' on to Huston's mill — 

A\dicre, I "spect. "The Freeport crowd" 
Never wanned to us er "lowed 
We wuz quite so overly 
Welcome as we aimed to be. 

Still it 'peared-like cvcr'thinj:- — 

Fur away from home as iJnvc — 
Had more rclish-Uke, i jing! — 
Fish in stream, er bird in air ! 

O them rich old bottom-lands. 

Past where Cowden's Schoolhouse stands ! 

Wortermelons — niasfcr-iiiiitc! 

Up and down old Brandywine ! 



143 



UP AND DOWN OLD BRANDYWINE 

And sich pop-paws ! — Lumps o' raw 

Gold and green, — jes oozy th'ough 
With ripe yaller — like you've saw 
Custard-pie with no crust to : 

And jes gorges o" wild plums, 
Till a feller'd suck his thumbs 
Clean up to his elbows! Alyf— 
Ale some more er leiii me die! 

Up and down old Brandy wine !. . . . 

Stripe me with pokeberry-juice ! — 
Flick me with a pizenvine 

And yell "Yip!" and lem me loose! 
— Old now as I then \\uz }-oung-, 
"F I could sing- as I hair sung, 
Song 'ud surely ring dee-vine 
Up and down old Brandywine ' 




144 



'^ < 





WHEN EARLY ^FARCH SEEAIS AIIDDLE 
]\rAY 



Wl HEX country roads beg-in to thaw 

' » In mottled spots of damp and dust, 
.-\nd fences In- the marg'in draw 
Alon.e;- the frosty crust 
Their seraphic silhouettes, I say, 
The Spring- is coming round this way. 
147 



WHEN EARLY MARCH SEEMS MIDDLE MAY 

When morning-time is bright with sun 
And keen with wind, and both confuse 

The dancing, glancing eyes of one 
With tears that ooze and ooze — 
And nose-tips weep as well as they, 
The Spring is coming round this way. 

When suddenly some shadow-bird 
Goes wavering beneath the gaze, 

And through the hedge the moan is heard 
Of kine that fain would graze 
In grasses new, I smile and say. 
The Spring is coming round this way. 

When knotted horse-tails are untied, 
And teamsters whistle here and there. 

And clumsy mitts are laid aside 
And choppers' hands are bare. 
And chips are thick where children play. 
The Spring is coming round this way. 

When through the twigs the farmer tramps. 

And troughs are chunked beneath the trees, 
And fragrant hints of sugar-camps 
Astray in every breeze, — 
148 



.. f*^ 







WHEN EARLY MARCH SEEMS MIDDLE AIAV 

When early March seems middle May, 
The Sprinj^ is coming- round this way. 

\Mien coughs arc changed to laughs, and when 
( )ur frowns melt into smiles of glee. 

And all our blood thaws out again 
In streams of ecstasy, 
And poets wreak their roundelav. 
The Spring is coming round this way. 




151 




Jfl&^^f^m^ 



oe THE- W ' 

AlRl^y ©AYS 



// 



OH ! tell me a tale of the airly days — 
Of the times as they ust to be : 
'Tiller of Fi-er" and "Shakspeare's Plays" 

Is a' most too deep fer me ! 
I want plane facts, and I want plane words, 

Of the good old-fashioned ways, 
When speech run free as the songs of birds 
'Way back in the airly days. 
152 



■# 





i^ 



A TALK OF THE AIRLV DAYS 



Tell me a tale of the tiiiiber-lands — 

Of the old-time i)ioneers ; 
Somepin' a pore man understands 

With his fcclins 's well as ears. 
Tell of the old loi^ house, — about 

The loft, and the puneheon llore — 
The old fi-er-place, with the crane swun.c;- out, 

And the latch-string- thrugh the door. 

Tell of the things jest as they was — 

They don't need no excuse ! — 
Don't tetch 'em up like the poets does, 

Tel theyr all too fine fer use ! — 
Say they was 'leven in the fambily — 

Two beds, and the chist, below, 
And the trundle-beds that each belt three. 

And the clock and the old bureau. 




Then blow the horn at the old back-door 

Tel the echoes all halloo, 
And the childern gethers home onc't more. 

Jest as they ust to do : 



155 



A TALE OF THE AIRLY DAYS 

Blow fer Pap tel he hears and comes, 

With Tomps and EHas, too, 
A-marchin' home, with the fife and drums 

And the old Red White and Blue ! 

Blow and blow tel the sound draps low 

As the moan of the whipperwill, 
And wake up ]\Tother, and Ruth and Jo, 

All sleepin' at P.ethel Hill : 
Blow and call tel the faces all 

Shine out in the back-log's blaze, 
And the shadders dance on the old hewed wall 

As they did in the airly days. 




1^6 



i, // 





OLD MAX'S NURSERY RHYAIE 
I 

IX the jolly winters 
Of the long"-ago, 
It was not so cold as now — 

O! No! No! 
Then, as I remember, 

Snowballs to eat 
Were as g^ood as apples now. 
And every bit as sweet ! 

159 



OLD MAN S NURSERY RHYME 
II 

In the jolly winters 

Of the dead-and-gone, 
Rub was warm as summer, 

With his red mitts on, — 
Just in his little waist- 

And-pants all together, 
\\ ho ever heard him growl 

About cold weather? 



Ill 

In the jolly winters 

Of the long-ago — 
Was it half so cold as now? 

O! No! No! 
Who caught his death o' cold, 

Making prints of men 
Flat-backed in snow that now's 

Twice as cold again ? 



1 60 




:tii> 



OLD MAX S NURSERY RHYME 
IV 

In tlie jolly winters 

Of the dead-and-j^^one, 
Startin' out rabbit-huntin' — 

Early as the dawn, — 
Who ever froze his fino^ers. 

Ears, heels, or toes, — 
Or'd 'a" cared if he had? 

No1)odv knows ! 



V 

Nights by the kitchen-stove, 

Shellin' white and red 
Corn in the skillet, and 

Sleepin' four abed ! 
Ah ! the jolly winters 

( H" the lonjji'-a.^'o ! 
We were not as old as now- 

O! No! No! 



163 




JUNE 



O QUEENLY month of indolent repose ! 
I drink thy breath in sips of rare perfume, 
As in thy downy lap of clover-bloom 
I nestle like a drowsy child and doze 
The lazy hours away. The zephyr throws 
The shifting shuttle of the Summer's loom 
And weaves a damask-work of gleam and gloom 
Before thy listless feet. The lily blows 
A bugle-call of fragrance o'er the glade ; 

And, wheeling into ranks, with plume and spear. 
Thy harvest-armies gather on parade ; 

While, faint and far away, yet pure and clear, 
A voice calls out of alien lands of shade : — 
All hail the Peerless Goddess of the Year ! 
164 




jd 



THE TREE-TOAD 



S 



" ''^ CUR'OUS-LIKE," said the tree-toad, 
"Eve twittered fcr rain all day; 



And I got up soon, 
And hollered tel noon — 
But the sun, hit blazed away. 

Tell I jest dumb down in a crawfish-hole, 
Weary at hart, and sick at soul ! 
167 



THE TREE-TOAD 

"Dozed away fer an hour. 

And I tackled the thing- agin : 

And T sung-, and sung, 

Tel I knowed my lung 
Was jest about give in ; 

And then, thinks I, ef hit don't rain iwzv, 

Tliey's nothin' in singin', anyhow ! 

"Onc't in a while some farmer 
Would come a-drivin' past ; 

And he'd hear my cry, 

And stop and sigh — 
Tel I jest laid back, at last. 

And I hollered rain tel I thought my th'oat 

Would bust wide open at ever' note ! 

"But I fetched her !— O / fetched her !— 
'Cause a little while ago, 
As I kindo' set, 
With one eye shet, 
And a-singin' soft and low, 

A voice drapped down on my fevered brain, 
A-sayin', — 'Ef you'll jest JiusJi I'll rain!'" 



1 68 




S(j^^ 





A SONG OF LONG AGO 



A SONG of Long Ago : 
Sing it lightly — sing it low — 
Sing it softly — likx the lisping of the lips \vc 

used to know- 
When our baby-laughter spilled 
From the glad hearts ever filled 
With music blithe as robin ever trilled ! 
171 



A SONG OF LONG AGO 

Let the fragrant summer breeze, 

And the leaves of locust-trees, 

And the apple-buds and -blossoms, and the 

wings of honey-bees, 
All palpitate with glee. 
Till the happy harmony 
Brings back each childish joy to you and me. 

Let the eyes of fancy turn 

Where the tumbled pippins burn 

Like embers in the orchard's lap of tangled 

grass and fern, — 
There let the old path wind 
In and out and on behind 
The cider-press that chuckles as we grind. 

Blend in the song the moan 

Of the dove that grieves alone, 

And the wild whir of the locust, and the 

bumble's drowsy drone ; 
And the low of cows that call 
Through the pasture-l^ars when all 
The landscape fades away at evenfall. 



172 



A SONG OF LONG AGO 

Then, far away and clear, 

Throui^h the dusky atmos])here. 

Let the waiHng of the killdee be the only 

sound we hear : 
O sad and sweet and low 
As the memory may know 
Is the e^lad-pathetic song of Long Ago ' 




1/5 






W 











OLD WINTERS ON THE FARM 



I HAVE jest about decided 
It 'ud keep a toivn-hoy hoppin' 
Fer to work all winter, choppin' 
Fer a' old fireplace, like / did ! 
Lawz ! them old times wuz contrairy ! — 

Blame' backbone o' winter, 'peared-like, 
Wonhhi't break ! — and I wuz skeerd-like 
Clean on into Feb' nary! 

Nothin' ever made me madder 
Than fer Pap to stomp in, layin' 
On a' extra forestick, sayin', 

"Groun'-hog's out and seed his shadder!" 
176 






: 



T '^ 



// 




ROMANCIN' 



1' B'EX a-kindo "iiiiisiit'." as the feller says, and I'm 
About o' the conclusion that they hain't no better 
time, 
\Mien you come to cii)her on it, than the times we ust to 

know 
\\'lien we swore our first "(foi^-i:;o>ic-it" sorto' solum-like 
and low ! 

179 



ROM A NCI N 

You git my idy, do you? — Little tads, you understand — 
Jest a-\vishin' thue and thue you that you on'y wuz a 

■man. — 
Yit here I am, this minit, even sixty, to a day, 
And fergittin' all that's in it, wishin' jest the other way! 

I hain't no hand to lectur' on the times, er r///7;onstrate 
Whare the trouhle is, er hector and domineer with Fate, — 
But when I git so flurried, and so pestered-like and blue. 
And so rail owdacious worried, let me tell you what I 
' do !— 

I jest gee-haw the hosses, and onhook the swingle-tree, 
Whare the hazel-bushes tosses down theyr shadders over 

me ; 
And I draw my plug o' nav}', and I climb the fence, and 

set 
Jest a-thinkin" here, i gravy ! tel my eyes is wringin'-wet ! 

Tho' I still kin see the troul:)le o' the prcsnnt, I kin see — 
Kindo" like my sight wuz double — all the things that 

nst to be ; 
And the flutter o' the robin and the teeter o' the wren 
Sets the wilier-branches bobbin' "howdy-do" thum Now 

to Then! 

i8o 




*— —* 




ro:maxcin 

The deadnin' and the thicket's jest a-bihn' full of June, 
From the rattle o" the cricket, to the \allar-haninier's 

tune ; 
And the catbird in the bottom, and the sapsuck on the 

snai^, 
Seems ef they can't — od-rot 'em! — jest do nothin' else 

but brae: ! 



They's music in the twitter of the bluebird and the jay, 
And that sassy little critter jest a-pcckiii' all the day ; 
They's music in the "flicker," and they's music in the 

thrush, 
And they's music in the snicker o' the chipmunk in the 

brush ! 



They's music all around me! — And I go back, in a dream 
Sweeter yit than ever found me fast asleep, — and in the 

stream 
That ust to split the mcdder whare the dandylions 

g^rowed. 
I stand knee-deep, and redder than the sunset down the 

road. 

183 



ROM A NCI N 

Then's when F b'en a-fishin' ! — And they's other fellers, 

too, 
With theyr hick'ry-poles a-swishin' out behind 'em ; and 

a few 
Little "shiners" on our stringers, with theyr tails tip- 

toein" bloom, 
As we dance 'em in our fingers all the happy jurney 

home. 

I kin sec us, true to Natur', thum the time we started out. 
With a biscuit and a 'tater in our little "roundabout" ! — 
I kin see our lines a-tanglin'. and our elbows in a jam, 
And our naked legs a-danglin' thum the apern o' the dam. 

I kin see the honeysuckle climbin" up around the mill, 
And kin hear the worter chuckle, and the wheel a-growl- 

in' still ; 
And thum the bank below it I kin steal the old canoe, 
And jest git in and row it like the miller ust to do. 

W'y, I git my fancy focussed on the past so mortul plane 
T kin even smell the locus'-blossoms bloomin' in the lane ; 
And I hear the cow-bells clinkin' sweeter tunes 'n 

"]\Toney-musk" 
Fer the lightnin' bugs a-blinkin' and a-dancin' in the dusk. 

184 



ROMANCIN 

And when I've kep' on "nnisin".'" as tlie feller says, tel I'm 
Firm-fixed in the eonclusion that they hain't no better 

time. 
When you come to ci])her on it. than the old times. — I 

de-clare 
I kin wake and say "dog-gone-it!" jest as soft as any 

pra)-er ! 




187 



St 



AUG 31 1901 



